horcrux
by bleuboxes
Summary: She has been lying in her bed for the last three hours staring at the ceiling and still, she feels more alive than ever, and suddenly she believes she's never going to sleep again. Involving a Sci-Fi book, a glass of water, and a certain Winchester.


Jo cannot sleep.

She doesn't know if it's from all her pent up excitement from seeing the Winchesters (specifically Dean) for the first time in three months or if she's just so tired that she's hyper that her body just won't physically shut off for the night.

She has been lying in her bed for the last three hours staring at the ceiling and still, she feels more alive than ever, and suddenly she believes she's never going to sleep again.

She sits up and grabs the sci-fi book that she found under a table the other day off her bedside table. She starting reading it the other day, and she actually thinks it's quite interesting; it's better than those soppy romance novels her mother reads, anyway.

She quietly steps out of her room and she weasels her way into the bar, book in hand. She sits down at a both by the window and turns the tiny table light on before she buries her nose in the book. She quickly scampers over to the bar to get herself a glass a water, and takes a sip as she walks back, eager to curl herself up in the corner of the booth and the wall. She picks up her book and continues to read about this weird alien love square and the bad guys' evil scheme to blow up the moons of Saturn.

Before she even realizes it, she's on chapter twenty out of thirty and she's not quite ready for it to end just yet. She decided to take a long water break, but that doesn't work because she's incredibly thirsty and downs the whole glass in a minute. She's too lazy to get up and fill up the glass again so she just stays seated and picks her book back up.

Despite her best efforts to slowly meander through the last ten chapters, she makes it to the final chapter. She is at the edge of her seat for the longest time wondering how it's going to end, then it's over. The villains blew up the moons and three out of the four people in the love square are blown up with them, leaving just one character left. That character can't stand living without the rest of them so she ends hear life in a blaze of glory.

Jo finds this extremely depressing, rather than heroic, and she's honestly not in the mood to cry over a stupid book anyway. She throws it down onto the table in a fit of rage and she can't believe that an author can be so ridiculous and cruel. Now, she assumes she knows why that book was left here in the first place – the ending fucking _sucks._

It's hopeless and upsetting and somehow, she's acclimated to those feelings and she's not very happy about how familiar they feel to her. Maybe she's upset because the book knows her worst fear, a book knows what she's going through. (And no, it's not being involved in an over whatever the fuck it is or being blown up on a moon of Saturn.)

She's terrified of being the only one left and she's scared of having to deal with all the pain of knowing that she could have done something to save the deceased, whether it be she couldn't get there in time or she just didn't know about the predicament in the first place.

She's overtired and that doesn't help with her emotions, which were just mangled in a train wreck all because of that stupid fucking book.

She's crying now, and she really isn't quite sure why. She feels so hopeless, so little, so _unimportant_ (it's sort of how she feels when Dean treats her like a seven year old, but that's a story for a different time). She hopes to god that no one will see her like this. She's crying at three-thirty in the morning over the stupidest science fiction book. (What on god's green earth has she reduced herself to?)

She's so caught up in her tears and that book that she doesn't hear the elder Winchester walk through the kitchen doors and into the bar. She's too angry to care about what ever jest he's about to throw at her, and she's much too tired to argue with him over stupid things (like that god damn book). Besides, she likes him a bit more than she lets on and she doesn't want him to hate her too much.

"Go away." She grumbles as he sits down across from her.

"Jesus, Jo. I just came down to see if you're alright; you're shaking the whole house."

"I'm fine; I swear. I just can't sleep." She says, hoping he won't press her about it.

"Jo, I'm gonna be perfectly honest with you," he says looking right at her, "You look like a walking disaster; what's a matter?"

"Well, a lady loves her compliments," she says sarcastically, earning a snort of laughter from the older Winchester, "But seriously, Dean, I'm fine. I'm just really –"

She watches him as he reaches for the book that she utterly despises, but despite that, she doesn't want him to know about it, so she snatches it up quickly in her arms, pressing it tightly against her chest. He smirks like he and his dirty mind know exactly what it is, and she can't believe how ridiculous he is.

"Whatcha got there?" he says with that sly little smirk.

"Nothing." She says all too quickly, only making him grin more.

"Reading some gushy romance novels in the dark?"

"No, god no." She is never going to live this down, "even so, it's nothing you would enjoy any way."

"I happen to just _adore_ soppy romances." He says matter-of- factly. She smiled and tried not to laugh, making a sort of constipated face in the process. She tried to pull the book closer to her body, which at this point was rather impossible.

"I told you, Dean-o, it's not a romance novel; literally only time you've ever come close to reading one was paging through it to the hot sex part."

"Miss Harvellle," he said, "you know me so very well."

"What can I say, you have a pretty predictable reputation." She says

"That was rude."

"Well, you interrupting me was rude as well." She didn't bother to say he interrupted her rage fit over the book that she just recently finished, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, "So, go back to bed or something so I can back to doing what I was doing."

She's no longer paying attention to the gorgeous boy that sits across from her and her grip on the book loosens, which gives him the chance to reach over the table and snatch it right out of her grip.

"Dean!" she says loudly, but not quite loud enough to wake up the rest of the company up.

He examines the cover quizzically, reading the title then flipping it over to read the summary on the back. She's waiting for him to belittle her even more for her shitty taste in books, but he doesn't. She can tell that he's somewhat interested, but not interested enough to directly question her about it without crushing a bit of her self-esteem.

" _The Silent Stars Go Bye_?" he asks with a ridiculing smirk, "Science Fiction, Jo; that's just as bad."

"God forbid I pick up a book that was left underneath a chair and start reading it to find that it's actually sort of good." (If you subtract the massive sob fest that she had because of the ending while she was thinking about her future.)

"It looks lame." He says blatantly, and for some strange reason, Jo got all protective over the book she wanted to shred just moments before.

"It's stupid and I hate it, but if there is one thing it's not, its lame."

"Stop talking nonsense, please." He asks, looking genuinely confused but god knows that Dean Winchester can never be less than perfect.

"Well, first of there is a love square – _who in their right mind writes a love square?_ Then there's the alien aspect of it, well two hot aliens and human girls so you know what's gonna go down there. And the villains are these space Nazis that want to blow up the alien chic's' home worlds, which are Saturn's moons. They succeed in ruining everything and all but one dies in the love square and then she goes into enemy territory and dies because she can't fucking take the loneliness." She pauses, "I hate this book; I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."'

She is fuming with anger and despair and he is trying his best to calm her down.

"Jo, calm down. Hey, it's just a book; it's not real. It's not real." He says frantically from across the table hoping that it will help calm her down. The last thing he wants is an angry Ellen Harvellle questioning him about what he did to her daughter.

"No, it's not just a book, dean. It's not just some book."

"Well, what is it then? I hope it's not some prophecy about you becoming some hot alien chic; ghosts and demons are enough for me, thank you very much."

"No," she says, trying not to punch that pretty face right off him, "You wouldn't understand."

She's so scared of being alone - the only one left out of their misfit gang of vigilantes. That's different than her freedom, though; she wants to be by herself but that doesn't mean that she has to be lonely. And maybe he feels that way too, but she's so over tired that the thought doesn't even cross her mind, and to her surprise, he doesn't pick a fight with her.

"I'd like to borrow it."

She bursts out laughing, thinking that he's messing with her. But, he actually looks interested in the little book that broke her heart (he looks more interested in the book than he ever will be in her, and that also fucks with her feelings) and she can't possibly refuse because, let's face it, he's Dean Winchester and she'll never be able to resist a request made by yours truly.

"You're serious?" she asks, then shrugs, noticing how earnest he looks, "You can keep it for all I care; I was going to rip it up as soon as I got the chance."

She yawns and curls up in the corner of the booth yet again, and he looks at her funny, almost as if there's something on her face.

"Watcha looking at, Winchester?" she asks drowsily.

"Nothin', Joanna Beth." He says. Her eyes flutter shut, caked in sleep. She's physically unable to lift them open anymore. Her brain is just about ready to shut down, but she can't stop thinking about how nice her name flows off his tongue.

"I'm sleepy." She says.

"I can tell."

"G'night, Dean." She whispers while taking one last yawn. All she wants now are her dreams to come true. She hears him mutter something coherent to good night and she feels the sleep taking control of her body.

"Love ya, Dean-o." she mutters lazily and incoherently before she drifts into uncultured sleep.

:::

* * *

:::

He sits there in a state of temporary shock. He's trying to convince himself that she was so sleep deprived that she didn't know what was going on, or that it must not have been water that she was drinking.

He wants to convince himself that she is too young to even understand the volume of the words that she's saying.

He doesn't know why she would ever in her right mind say such a thing, but then, he supposes that she wasn't in her right mind, so it doesn't mean anything. (If it didn't mean anything, then why was he suddenly freaking out?)

He doesn't know how he wants her to think of him; it hurts him a bit to know that she said that she loved him and didn't mean it – or maybe she did; a little part of him childishly wants to believe that Joanna Beth Harvellle loves him and he's devilishly fond of that very idea.

He allows himself a smile, just a measly grin, and he stands up, taking her book with him. He sets it on the bar, as he rushes over to a table and grabs a table cloth to put over her sleeping body just before resting his lips on her forehead and bidding her goodnight, even though he knows she can't see or hear him (and that's just how he likes it).

He says her name a few times as he makes his way back to his room for the night.

He's lying in bed and thinking of all the what if's of her mindless muttering, and he thinks that perhaps that it wouldn't be bad thing if he liked her a bit more than he should; besides, he deserves something good in his life. He is owed something, or someone, that would make his days a bit brighter. And maybe, just maybe, that someone was Jo.

He would wait for tomorrow to start reading the book, and though he wasn't big on reading, this was something of hers – something that she gave to him (because she didn't want to destroy it just yet).

He remembers Sam telling him about something he read on the internet about books being like that nose-less guy in _Harry Potter_ whose soul is split into seven pieces.

And so, he believes that this book is part of Jo's soul, and he feels so lucky to be holding part of her in his hands. It makes him feel important and it makes him feel happy that she's entrusting him with such a thing. He wonders if she knows that much like that nose-less guy (who he later learns is called Voldemort) he's put part of his soul in a living being involuntarily, and he couldn't have asked for a better keeper.

* * *

 **HEY YALL! this was just something I though about in latin and my head decided it wasn't going to stop pestering me about it until I wrote it down and posted it.**

 **it was supposed to be a bit fluffier than it is, but you know, stories end up being a little different on paper than in your head, so... *sigh***

 **anywho, I hope y'all liked it and if you did, please be kind enough to leave a review and or a follow/favorite because that really boosts my confidence as a writer!**

 **Thank you!**

 **(also I know jo was really out of character, but u know, its fan fiction and trying to get her personality down pat - it takes practice so sorry about that)**

 **bleuboxes**


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